Team Fortress Hetalia
by Cestrescir
Summary: Meet the blue team, one of the biggest group of misfits you will find in this game of capture the intelligence. What's this? The red spy is in the base! Rated T.


I have no idea what possessed me to do this. O.o

Disclaimer: I own nothing that appears in this fanfic....just the stupid idea. XD

Oh, God....why am I doing this again?

Oh, right....because my sister and I thought it would be funny. XD

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"BONK!"

Alfred grinned, not noticing the slight splatter of red that landed on his cheek. 'YES! Another one down. I am the HERO! I am a force of nature!' he thought triumphantly, resting the bloody, metal bat on one shoulder.

Then, he was off again, darting through the field, swiftly dodging gunfire and--

Alfred quickly skidded to a near-stop, rolling to the side and successfully dodged the flamethrower. "Pyro!" he yelped, rolling away from the deadly flames once more. 'Crap, crap, crap--'

Suddenly, the pyro fell face-first into the dirt, a bloody knife in his back. The air behind the now-dead pyro rippled slightly, before a blue spy was revealed. Alfred blinked in surprise.

"Ah, bonjour, Alfred!" the spy said, waving, absently flipping out a new knife, just in case.

The scout blinked again. "Hey, Francis?" he began, slightly confused.

The spy blinked, playing with his blade a bit. "Oui, Alfred?"

"WHERE THE HECK IS EVERYONE ELSE?!"

"That is a _very_ good question," the Frenchman murmured, then grabbed Alfred, pulling him into a doorway and putting a gloved hand over the younger man's mouth. Alfred nearly panicked. He began to struggle. What if he'd been wrong? What if this wasn't Francis? Had he just been captured by the red spy? Was he going to get knifed here, in this abandoned doorway? Was he--

Alfred immediately stilled as a red medic ran by. Well, jogged at a leisurely pace, being quite loud.

"Where are you, comrades? Do not worry! I will make it _all_ better! Where did you all go?" the man called cheerfully as he trotted by, too caught up in what he was doing to notice the two blue-team members hiding in his own base. The two waited until they could no longer here his calls before Francis let go of Alfred.

"I had been wondering why no one was calling for a medic..." the spy muttered.

Alfred nodded, shivering. "If he was our medic, I wouldn't call for him, either," he agreed.

Francis shook his head. "We need to get moving."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...What do you bloody want?" Arthur asked, looking over at his companion.

The medic snorted. "Nothing to get your panties in a twist over," the man began, and Arthur immediately bristled. The man simply ignored him, continuing. "I just thought that our demo-man was supposed to be some awesome Scottish guy. Your English accent and total lack of awesome are completely throwing me off," the medic drawled.

Arthur felt a vein throb in his head. Prussian medic was _really _starting to piss him off. The idea of stuffing one of his bombs down the man's throat and taking cover to watch the fun was quite tempting, at the moment.

Actually, Arthur didn't even know _why_ Gilbert was their medic. The man wasn't really that good at it. He tended to shoot more often than heal. And he was never around when you needed him to be.

"You need a job change," the English demo-man muttered. The medic immediately perked up.

"Say, what?" he asked curiously.

"You are _the worst_ medic I have ever met," Arthur said bluntly. "I suggest you go guard the intelligence and rethink your career choice."

Gilbert scowled, opening his mouth. Then stopped, closing his mouth. His scowl turned into a thoughtful frown, then he grinned.

"You know, that's not an un-awesome idea. I'll be back, small demo-man. You are on the verge of awesome!" he said, running back.

Arthur sighed with relief. _Finally._ He was finally rid of the man. Hopefully, he'd come up with something more useful to do while he was thinking, too. He froze when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Good day, Arthur."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Francis peeked around the corner, quickly pulling his head back when he saw that no one else was there. He needed to get Alfred off his back. How was he supposed to disguise himself as someone from the other team when someone from his own team was following everywhere? After a moment, Francis had it.

"Alfred!" he whispered, and the scout scooted over to him.

"What up?"

The Frenchman ignored the younger man's attrocious grammar and peeked around the corner again as he spoke.

"Here is what we will do. You are going to go ahead and grab the intelligence. From what I know, no one should be there, right now. They've also run out of engineers. You should be fine. Meet me in the upper levels and get ready to jump across. By the time you get there I should have cleared the way. Clear?"

The younger blond nodded, a strangely serious look on his face. "Crystal," he said.

Francis nodded, and they both split ways. For a moment, the spy watched as the scout dashed off and around one corner. Hearing no gunfire or shouting, he turned his attentions to the task at hand. Without wasting any time, he went through his disguise options, and chose to be a scout, himself.

Swiftly, he made his way through the halls, finally finding the staircase. He paused. There didn't seem to be anyone around...which left him open for something he always loved doing. As soon as he was up the stairs, the spy shrugged off his dissguise, silently coming up behind the lone sniper, knife at the ready. But he paused. Usually, he enjoyed this sort of thing. Coming up here...backstabbing any snipers while they were in 'snipe' mode. But this time...

He glanced back briefly, hearing footsteps. They sounded light. A scout. Had Alfred finished, already? Oh, dear. It seemed the sniper head heard it too, be cause he had come out of snipe mode, and was just turning around...

Francis took his chance and pushed.

The Australian's face was a mask of surprise and shock. "Crikey!" he shouted, just as he lost his balance from the push, and went tumbling over the edge. "Shiiiiiiiiiii--" _SPLAT!_

Francis turned, feeling quite satisfied, to see Alfred with the enemy intelligence, staring at him. Obviously, the scout hadn't been expecting that. The spy merely grinned, gesturing to the open rooftop before them.

"After you, mon ami."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Silence. Stillness. Movement. Crosshairs fixed--_BAM!_

"Headshot," Vash muttered triumphantly, pulling back out of snipe mode to re-load his gun. Movement across the rooftops in front of his made him pause. When he saw who it was, he quickly finished re-loading, and got out of the way. With his double-jump, Alfred was able to make it across with the intelligence, landing nimbly next to the Swiss sniper. Francis, having no such jumping ability, was out of luck. He fell, just managing to catch the edge of the opening to slow his fall, before falling the rest of the way.

"Just get to the intelligence room, Alfred! I'll be there soon," the man yelled up, before running inside to dodge gunfire.

Vash looked over at Alfred, eyebrow raised. "You guys actually managed to get it?" he asked, nearly incredulously.

Alfred nodded, looking quite proud of himself. "Yup!"

The Swiss man fingered the trigger of his gun for a moment, before nodding. "Alright. You get going, I cover up here. There's a lot of red guys crawling around the lower levels, though, so try to find Ludwig. He shouldn't be too far away," he told the scout.

Alfred nodded and sprinted off, leaving a small trail of paper in the air behind him. Vash watched as it floated to the ground for a moment, before turning back to his opening and kneeling. Going into snipe mode, he looked for someone to aim at. Too bad for the red team, the Swiss sniper had a habit of shooting enemy genitals.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Francis couldn't believe how many of the enemy were crawling around the lower levels. He'd already run into a scout and a soldier, and his health was running pretty low. He'd managed to get the scout, but...

He glanced back, then tried to pick up speed. The soldier was in pursuit. Because Francis was so low on health, there was no way he'd be able to survive a confrontation with the enemy soldier, so all he could do was run in a sporadic zig-zag, making it hard for the soldier to aim. Just as he was starting to lose the last of his energy, and the soldier had him in his sights, a burst of gunfire came from a dark hallway in front of him. Francis glanced back, watching as the soldier fell to the ground in a bloody mess, then looked back.

Four sentries, all lined up, their guns still smoking slightly. Behind them was an engineer slumped against the wall, his yellow hard-hat covering his face. He must have been sleeping, but the sound of gunfire had woken him up. The engineer yawned, pushing up the hard-hat and giving Francis full view of his face.

The French spy walked past the sentries. "Have you been here the whole time, just making these, Heracles?" he asked incredulously.

The Greek engineer blinked up at him. "Mmm-hmm....and that," he said, pointing to a nearby dispenser. Francis leaned on the dispenser in relief, and quickly went about regaining his health.

"Where is Gilbert?" he asked, annoyed that the medic wasn't around, _again._

Heracles shrugged. "Dunno. He was with Arthur, earlier. Vash is on the roof, but I'm sure you already knew that. Ludwig has been hanging out near the intelligence room, I think. If you're going there, then you can use the teleporter behind the dispenser," he said, leaning back against the wall.

Francis nodded. That was good. Vash would probably have pointed Alfred in the direction of the large, gun-toting man. With all of the enemies in their base, the Scout would need a heavy watching his back. And if Ludwig was there, the the medic wasn't too far behind. He'd probably get to yell at Gilbert if he went and found Alfred, then.

"Merci," he said, turning away. The engineer grabbed his shirtsleeve. "Wait."

Francis looked down, frowning. "Oui? What is it?"

There was a slight pause, then Heracles looked up, green eyes meeting blue. "One of my sentries further in got sapped, earlier. The red spy is here."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Gah!"

"What's wrong?"

Alfred sighed, stepping away from the door to the intelligence room, blowing the bangs from his eyes with a frustrated puff. "I can't get the stupid door open," he growled, looking back at Ludwig.

The larger man, moved him to the side, making him blink, the proceeded to open the door a la shoulder and brute force. It worked. Alfred and Ludwig soon walked into the room, the door barely on its hinges. As he walked in, the scout blinked.

"Francis? How'd you get here so fast?" he asked.

The spy flipped his knife closed, putting it in his pocket. "I used Heracles' teleporter. Have you seen Gilber--" the Frenchman was cut off as--speak of the devil--Gilbert walked into the room. All three men blinked. Gilbert grinned.

"Whaddaya think?" the former medic asked. "British demo-man told me to rethink my career choice. I thought that I'd be _so_ much more awesome as a soldier!"

The other three watched as he loaded his gun, Ludwig sighing in defeat at his brother's antics. Francis cleared his throat, regaining everyone's attention.

"Gentlemen, we have a problem. We may have captured the intelligence, but! The enemy spy..." he paused, looking around at the men assembled in front of him. "...Is in our base."

Ludwig and Gilbert blinked, and Alfred groaned. "Oh, _joy_," the scout muttered.

Francis nodded, begining to pace a bit. "That is right! This is a very serious matter. After all. He could be _any one of us_," he said, pausing once again for effect, before continuing. "He could be you!" he said, pointing to Alfred, who put a hand on his own chest, mouth shaped like an 'o'. The intelligence had been forgotten, as all three became caught up in Francis' drama. "He could be you! Or you!" the spy went on, pointing to Ludwig, then Gilbert, both of whom blinked. He then put a hand on his own chest. "Why, he could even be me!"

_BAM!_

The Frenchman's now-headless body dropped to the floor. Ludwig and Alfred gaped. Alfred turned to Gilbert who was lowering his gun.

"Why the heck did you do that?!?!" he practically yelled. Gilbert shrugged as he and Alfred took a step foreword and crouched by the body.

"Hey, he said it was him--"

"--No he di--!"

"--So I shot him. Watch, he'll turn red any second, now," the Prussian finished, tapping the dead Frenchman's shoe with the barrel of his gun. Nothing happened. Gilbert frowned. "Any second now. Any second now. Any...aw, shit..." he finished, realizing what he'd done. Alfred groaned out loud.

Behind them, Ludwig's image shimmered, and disappeared, revealing a spy dressed in red. A small smile on his face, he flipped open his knife.

"Good day, Alfred, Gilbert."

Gilbert froze at the sound of the spy's voice, and Alfred shivered, eyes wide. He recognized that voice.

"Oh, God. Mat--"

-

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-

-

What is wrong with me? *sighs*

I know, I know. I should have been working on my other stuff. But the chance to write this was just too good to pass up. XD

Towards the end, I sort of used the end of 'Meet the Spy'. It was just too funny. I didn't have the whole 'the spy and your mother' conversation, though. Sorry!

If anyone reads this, I'll be very surprised. XD

Does anyone know who the spy was? :D If you couldn't guess who it was from those first three letters, then I will be very disappointed in you, lol.

Thanks for reading! :3


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